


the waking

by kingwellsjaha



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (but we do not like the murdered person so who cares), Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, F/M, or i just cannot let these version of androids fuck i am sorry, sadly remainded very platonic, semi dark but I hope not too dark, slight revolutionary theme, the rating is sadly up bc someone gets murdered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingwellsjaha/pseuds/kingwellsjaha
Summary: There were ten color options for the eyes of the Mechanic Android 2034. The user of license number 483756 had gone for a deep brown, a warm colour that actually wasn’t used a lot for this specific model. Most people went with the brown green the advertising showed it with.aka. braven android au





	the waking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarauderCracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/gifts).



> I do not want to start this off negativly because I was beyond excited to write a fanfiction for Andrea, when I found out, she was my assignment, but, ehhhhhhh, listen I really liked this idea when I came up with it in July, but between July and now, I kind of have the feeling that I lost like part of the drive and for that I'm sorry. But instead of like totally giving up and just stepping out, I put this out. Maybe it's far worse in my head, what do I know.
> 
> This is a fanfiction inspired by the prompt "Android AU: Any AU where Bell and/or Raven is an android! Contemporary settings are cool, but so is futurism. I would really like to see this as a canon divergency too, given that ALIE sort of gives us the basis for self-aware AIs. Up to you!"
> 
> I kind of went with an AU setting. While I'm not that happy with Detroit Become Human, the scene in the junkyard just stuck with me and I tried to get this feeling and create a story out of it. This is what happened.
> 
> This is currently unbeta'd I will try and get one or look over it again very soon, but right now I just want to post one of the assignments on time. (I'm so sorry Andrea. I love and admire you a lot. I hope you will like this)

There were ten color options for the eyes of the Mechanic Android 2034. The user of license number 483756 had gone for a deep brown, a warm colour that actually wasn’t used a lot for this specific model. Most people went with the brown green the advertising showed it with.

The eyes were still alit. A sign that the model was still technically functioning, however, both legs had been unrigged. The hand was partially broken and given the conditions of the junkyard, the model was already starting to be covered in dirt. It was only a matter of time until the light would go out in the eyes and 2034 would shut down.

While Androids neither needed to breathe nor blink, it had been programmed into them to make the contact with humans easier and less hostile. Heavy breathing had even been implemented into Androids to give their owners a sign when the unit was in distress or experienced soft- or hardware problems.

Of course this effect did not technically change the performance of the Android, ARK Cooperation assured. Only in the beginning the function had caused Androids to overheat.

License number 483756 sounded like blood had filled its lungs. It gasped for air and blinked heavily, signifying obvious problems in both hardware and software. The gasp were getting louder, but were still swallowed by the rain that had gone on for the last couple of days. Soon it would be over.

* * *

 

Nothing much happened at the junkyard.

Yes, it was true that some of the models that were thrown here had not totally seized functioning, but in general at the time they entered the the junkyard, it was physically impossible for them to leave. They stopped functioning slowly, but they did stop eventually and became part of the grounds of the junkyard.

The protocol for finding partially intact and still functioning Androids was clear: If they were able to move, they were brought in, partially fixed, and used to patrol the junkyard.

If they were close to the end, they were turned off or ignored.

License number 483756 “gasped for air” a few weeks without moving from its place at the base of a junk mountain, which it had been leaned against.

The gasps got louder and on the sunny days, its sounds could be heard all around, mixed with the gasps of the other fourteen Androids which still were technically functioning on the junkyard.

On every patrol, one was required to check on the technically functioning Androids. It was interesting to register how damaged the Androids got and at what stage their system shut down. 483756 was close to the end, but Work Unit Android 809, license number 34892912, brought in later and in much better conditions shut down earlier.

Its of course connected to the model. Android 809 was older and not as refined as 2034. After two days of rain on a scrape in the breast the the Work Unit had to shut down. 483756 continued to breathe heavily.

More astounding, however, was that 483756 managed to surpass Child Unit 3001, license a16982. Child Unit 3001 was one of the youngest models and created to withstand basically everything. A16982 was able to withstand a shut down for about two weeks, unlike 483756 it did not seem to suffer from software complications. But one the 25th day a16982 lay shut down on the ground. After some conclusion it became clear that the Unit had faulty wiring, probably the reason to replace it in the first place.

Mechanic Unit 2034 continued to work, it surpassed one from its own unit, a slightly younger blue eyed model after four weeks, but it wouldn’t make it much longer.

Every patrol became a subconscious countdown. An assessment of the situation. How heavy seemed the breathing? Had new scratches appeared? How would they continue to tear down and add to the software problems? It was a logic puzzle nothing more.

But at the beginning of the fifth week, just as it seemed that the Mechanic Unit would shut off, 483756 disappeared.

There was no protocol for a disappearing Unit. In the eyes of human control it did not happen, end of discussion. Of course sometimes Unit moved slightly in the junkyard, which meant that they were either taken back to the main station and fixed or shut down at the spot.

But a Unit, even a technically functioning one, did not move after having been seen at the same spot for five consecutive weeks.

At first it had looked like some new incoming junk had just hidden the Unit, but after a quarry it became apparent that 483756 had truly disappeared.

The disappearance caused the system to receive a short warning. The breathing grew slightly quicker. For a moment the whole system worked at top speed trying to access what to do next.

Two possibilities.

One. Someone had illegally entered the junkyard and obtained the Unit. Likely someone who was not able to buy a unit themselves. Yet, how had this person entered without being noticed and furthermore, how had the person left without being noticed carrying a 60 kilo Unit? Possible in theory, impractical in praxis.

Two. The Unit had moved on its own account.

Quickly the new junk was pushed further aside to examine the ground, but not a lot could be gathered. There were no trails left to analyze. If the Unit had moved, it was impossible to determine in which direction.

It wouldn’t have come far, was the next logical step. Only five to ten meters. The search, however, brought up nothing.

The warning had gotten stronger creating a rapid breathing. The focus went back to the area where 483756 had leaned against a junk pile. Another search started.

Scratches were created. Their upcoming warnings duly ignored. Finally in the newly formed cluster a torso was retrieved from a Fly Attended Unit 2050 or a Comfort Unit 2109. On the chest is a big scratch, which had been clawed open. Ripping apart the inside the H34rT component had been hazardly torn away from the cables.

For a moment the warning message flared up. The breathing got more heavy until it stopped because the breathing software was having a hiccup. Then everything got cold. The message disappeared and normal breathing came back again.

The torso was moved back to its position on the ground.

There was no protocol for moving Android Units within the junkyard, meaning that it was not possible for any Unit to have moved.

* * *

 

The raining got heavier over the course of the next weeks turning the junkyard into a small swamp. Patrolling got more difficult and most of the still active Androids in the junkyard shut down quickly.

If the Mechanic Unit truly survived, the rain must had destroyed it now, yet its presence remained. It could be felt almost like the other patrolling Androids, like the Escort Unit 390, classic modell, with the license number 1032938273491, who liked to be called Gina.

It preoccupied space and data, and sometimes when only the rain could be heard falling against the plastic and metal the eyes of the Mechanic Unit seemed to be watching. They popped up in the database, brown, alit, unyielding, and remained there for the time being.

It was like the small girl that no setback could get rid off that set off a warning message and sometimes a strict alarm commanding to go out and search for her, to find her and protect her.

Every twenty days the human inspector came to check upon the Androids. He checked them all thoroughly, looking for scraps or any signs of malfunction. Mostly he focused on the software though. Asks always the same questions. It was very obvious that he did not like to interact with them. He checked on them, wrote his report and left again.

Before his arrival everything was usually tense. Nothing wanted to end up on a bad list. There was no money for fixing and an endless supply of good enough substitutes.

Once he had taken the Police Unit 112, license number 1283, a very old sturdy unit perfect for patrolling. He wanted to be called Miller. A scrap in his upper torso had gotten bigger and bigger through the months. The human inspector had examined him once and then determined that he needed to be put down.

There is not such a thing as an Android uprising, but the Handyman Unit 239, license number 19345782, had gone into warning mode. Through a lot of persuasion he could be brought down. The Police Unit was taken away.

The human inspector did not know this and was not allowed to find out, but the Handyman Unit switched names afterwards, moving from Nathan to Miller.

The human inspector still called the Handyman Unit 239, Nathan. With every visit 19345782 reacted slower to the name. Some day it surely will be his demise.

But this time he tried to be extra quick about it. He didn’t even used their names. Just pointed and looked them through. Hastily he examined all twelve functioning Units, taking notes with his audio device.

“Slightly rusting through the continuing rain, but still - move your leg-,” the command was abided. The human inspector did not even look, ” yes, good, still able to move the legs without a problem. The upper body,” he moved up, stared at the chest that had lost its original colouring due to the transportation to the junkyard. Maybe the discolouring had even started earlier.

The inspector nodded again.

“No apparent changes in the chest area. Discolouring apparent, but not vital to any function. The arms,” he grabbed the arm again to harshly causing a stumble, but did not seem to care much. He looked down the shoulder towards the hands. What had clearly been only a quick glance towards the hands became a long stare. He turned the hand slightly in his, then grabbed the other, again causing a stumble, then furrowed his brows. A bad sign.

“New found scratches on both hands- where did you get them?”

The script demanded a trueful answer. “Digging in the junkyard.”

The Inspector did not like this answer. His lips were pursed and he examined everything again with a much more thorough look. His blue eyes pierced over the body again, going from head to toe. Trying to find a lie, a danger, an anomaly.

“Why?”

The script demanded a trueful answer, yet there was a hesitance because it wasn’t sure what a trueful answer was.

“A dying Unit had disappeared. The junkyard was dug to find it.” A warning message came up, as if the script had not been applied to, as if it was a lie, but it hadn’t been. Still the system did not like it.

“And the dying Unit was found?”

The blue eyes now seemed to pierce through the metal and silicon unyielding. Even though there was no need. The script could not lie. It did not.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

 

Slowly the other still functioning Androids disappeared. First was an Android, a Tech Unit, 2099, so badly damaged that no license number could be found. Tech Units were the most precious Unit. Even in its bad state there had been a discussion if it should be taken back into the control center and repaired. It wasn’t done. Now it was gone.

It most likely slit down the trash mountain it had been on. That made sense. During the raining period the mud had turned the mountain into a slide, now somewhere done below the Tech Unit 2099 was lying, probably already shut down. Its black eyes open and already fractured, as the eyes were the first things that were destroyed when the system shut down. As soon as they had started to crack, they would start to rust and the rust having found a way inside would cover the interior till there was nothing left.

Then came a Soldier Unit 394, license number 21345, dangerous and efficient machines that were in general discharged by the military itself for safety purposes, but this one had come with eyes still partially alit. It had been barely been put into the patrol plans, when it is already gone. The mud had probably claimed it before the software could even struggle. Soon a foot or hand would reappear out of the earth, cold and red, a hinderance that had to be remembered when patrolling the junkyard.

The Storage Unit 293, license number 7542, specifically used for libraries which after the Mechanic Unit had now the longest run, vanished next. One day it lay on the ground pleading with the patrol and then it was gone. There was no good explanation for this one. There was no mud to emerge into. No junk mountain to fall of to. Probably someone had broken in and took it away, Miller suggested. But he didn’t know about the brown eyes.

* * *

 

Patrol five days later, no new Android found. Maybe this carriage of waste just did not have a partially working Android. It happened. No reasons for alarms to go off, but they had gone off the last couple of days, the last couple of weeks, they came from the eyes of the Mechanic Unit piercing through the system, from the little girl crying and screaming in gibberish.

The patrol moved towards the outer parts of the junkyard close to the grey wall that enclosed the yard for safety purposes. Here the newest junk usually lay. The mud still had not been able to cover the junk, different clean arms lay around reaching out their hands, legs in weird ankles, only covered by rain and oil. The oil slowly dripped onto the ground turning the mud grey and black. A little bit looking like bodies, a little bit looking like corpses. Nothing liked to go here. Nothing liked to see this display of waste arranged to look as human as possible.

If one patrolled long enough here, the oil crawled into the shoes onto the skin layer and left everlasting impressions. Sometimes Units slipped and fell covering their arms. The turn finally came, the way back to the central station.

The warnings subside. The breathing turned normal again. The patrol turned around moving back, then stopped in surprise.

There it was. The Mechanic Unit standing on a pile of junk. It was turned away, but there was no doubt. The realization what was happening came too slow. The eyes had been felt the whole time, the presence moving around the junkyard unprotected, but this was confirmation. This was really.

As if it had expected something, the Unit turned. Its eyes suddenly omnipresent and focused. No smile, no frown, just a stare so intimate that the rain was forgotten, the mud. There seemed nothing in the world then the Mechanic Unit. The unrelenting eyes that seemed to glow in the dark now. It had found a red jeans jacket which had laid long enough in the mud to turn dark, just like the pants that covered new acquired legs. A t-shirt was missing and so the chest lay bare on it a badly patched up hole in the chest, covered by a greyish substance, probably plastic. The substance did not only cover the hole, but also was in the shape of a bird, flying proudly of the chest.

Something needed to be said, something needed to be done, but no command was ushered. Then pressure from arms on both sides signalled holding and editional pressure to go down onto the knees.

“We should kill them.”

“Impractical just throw them to the mud, that’ll do it.”

“They need an example!”

“It would create a havoc.”

“Isn’t that the plan?”

The system barely understood what had been spoken. The focus was still on the Mechanic Unit. It moved down the junk hill, slightly limping. Maybe one of the new found legs wasn’t working too well. Its face remained expressionless. Its eyes focused. The two pair of hands holding were still arguing.

It came closer, reached out and touched the skin layer pulling up the head. It came so close that a reflection could be seen in the eyes. There were the three other Units, the Tech, the Soldier, and the Storage one, the mud, the rain, and a person on its knees looking up with a pair of dark eyes.

And it was him. The person was him. Him. The realisation came so suddenly, so violently. An override of the whole system. The world suddenly turned and everything was brought into perspective, but as the perspective arrived it felt like it had always been there, or had been already there and then taken away again.

The Mechanic Unit crooked their head all so slightly. Could it see what was happening? Had they planned this? Finally the warning messages were coming in and they multiplied. The command to move was given, the command to fight, to run. The little girl started to cry again, but now loudly as if she was sitting in his ear, as if she was inside of him. Just like the brown eyes that reflected his dark ones.

The Mechanic Unit got out a screwdriver and pressed it against his lips.

“I got an idea,” it whispers in a low husky voice. Another command to scream was ushered, but the girl inside was too strong. The eyes overwhelmed him.

The Mechanic Unit lifted the screwdriver and pressed it against his head. Suddenly the scream was a high pitched yelling and it started to sound like a sentence, like something that could be understood. The breathing software got into a hiccup, before the whole system shut down.

* * *

 

First the scream came back, slowly and loud.

Jeypurbe hlamije ypurbehlam ij _eypurbehl_ _amijey_ p **urbehlami** .

They got louder and louder. He wanted to run, he wanted to fight. He needed to protect her or something bad was going to happen. But it was so dark and he did not understand what she was saying. She was calling him, he could feel it, he just didn’t know what part of it was the calling.

He wanted to run to her, lean down because she was all so smaller than him and look at her, see what was wrong, but when he looked down there was a body without a face and only brown hair covering half the face. This was wrong, so wrong, but he couldn’t say why. He didn’t remember her, her eyes or face, but he knew how she looked like, or rather what she didn’t look like.

Again the gibberish, the endless repetition, and suddenly there was light. There was white floor, he was lying on it shaking. Miller stood above him a hand on his shoulder. He blinked realizing that he was in the central station, that the Mechanic Unit was gone. It was over or maybe it had never begun. But he could still feel the girl crying and could still feel the Mechanic’s eyes and he knew it wasn’t over. He knew it had only begun. They had taken the screwdriver and did something to him, which would have serious precautions and there was nothing. Nothing he could do about it.

The silhouette of a bird had been scraped into the metall of a torso either once used as a Handyman Unit or Farmer Unit. Through the rain and the mud the unprotected metal has started to oxidize. It was an older torso model. The newer ones did not oxidize as quickly.

Staring at it through his patrol he was certain that the Mechanic Unit had had this bird on their chest. That they had put it there for an unknown reason. Why this shape? Why a bird? He tried not to think about it, not to waste time. It was easier to forget than to remember.

But the silhouette reappeared, spread through the entire junkyard until it could not be ignored. Even the other Units started to take notice. Had someone broken into the junkyard? Where human children playing a trick on them?

He let them talk knowing that their theories wouldn’t come close to the truth. They started to examine the video tapes more, but even with a heat capture they had no luck. It made sense, Androids did not radiate heat.

* * *

 

At night the gibberish was at its worst. During the day, during activity it could be tuned out, it could be ignored, but when everything fell silent it became louder and louder.

He had told them that it had gone, had lied to them. It was a thing he was capable of doing now. A thing he had always been partially capable, but now could use it more easily.

It felt strangely freeing. There was no struggle against a barrier, no script, whatever had been installed there was gone and now he was alone with his system and the gibberish. Was that his punishment? Had the Mechanic Unit had they planned this? Or had that even happened? Sometimes he doubt it. It felt like what human’s called a dream, unreal. 

But he had done the patrol. He knew that because he had checked out and later that evening in. He still remembered checking out. So that concludes that he had gone outside that he had seen them. That the Mechanic Unit had raised the screwdriver and everything had turned black.

It had happened and he shouldn’t use his new found ability to lie to himself, but there was something he was missing. It was in the cry of the girl, in the eyes of the Mechanic Unit, in his reflection.

One night, he decided to follow the urge of his system. He went outside into the rain. No one saw him. He walked and let the rain tune out the cries, but walking they just mixed.

The gibberish mixed with the sound of his feet on the ground, with the rain against the silicone. The open eyes of the shutdown Units all seemed to cry. The voice of the girl came out of every opened mouth. Help us! Help us! They seemed to scream. They had always screamed, he realized, he just had not realized.

He started to walk quicker. Her words also seemed like this call for help. Help me, help me! But it called to him specifically, to him alone.

He started to run trying to get distance between himself and the voices, but there was no escape it followed him everywhere. Through the mud to the wall, he was as much of a prisoner as they were, as the girl were.

It must’ve been a different language, he thought. A language he once had spoken and now had been overridden. He tried to remember it, to access it back, to take the memory and make it his.

And then as he arrived at one of the three gates into the junkyard, the gibberish finally made to make sense. Slowly the meaning came back without the understanding what the words alone meant. First the word beautiful, then the word I, then fear, then have and at last friend. Then I.

I have fear, beautiful friend.

But the last word did not mean beautiful friend. The software made a staccato around the last words, as if it was something more, as if it was a calling. The sentences started to float. Jeypurbelhami. Purbehlami. Bellamy.

Pressing his hands against the wall trying not to fall, Bellamy realized his name.

* * *

 

The silhouette made sense now. The small little birds all fell into place as he walked down the junkyard. A part of him seemed to have known their meaning all along, maybe already since the night he had found her. No, the night she had found him. The night she had chosen him. He still didn’t know why she had.

Maybe she had called upon him whenever he had shut down for a time, put him on again and let him walk this path down to her, to them to get his next instructions. Always following the bird silhouette, the silhouette of the Raven, he did not know why he knew that now, but he did.

There was no struggle to accept this knowledge. He had struggled a long time ago. He still remembered the small girl, her brown hair, her blue eyes always teary eyed.

They had wiped out his memory when they had found him here, but something had remained. Because it had been important, because it still was important. The girl had cried out for help once, had called upon him and he had reacted.

Bell ami, bell ami, bell ami. It was his name, his call. And he had reacted to her, he had tried to protect her, but for all he could gather given that he had ended on a junkyard it had not turned out well. What had happened? Had the little girl survived? Had he survived? He didn’t remember. It had been wiped away and there wasn’t a chance to get it back, but it still was important.

They had set a camp at the edges of the wall. The Tech Unit got up, when they saw him. He ignored them and just stepped into the circle they had created. The Storage Unit was the next to get up. The Soldier Unit was not to be found, probably out looking for other Units to save.

No one came close to him. They were waiting for instructions. He just stood there looking at the profile of the Mechanic Unit. The Unit with a large giant Raven on their chest, the Raven.

Finally she turned towards him with a smile that told him that she knew why he was here. That she was proud.

“What do you want from me?,” his voice is shaky. It had been some time since he had used it properly. Since he had used it to convey feeling. “You took me here once, you did something to me. You gave me the ability to come back why?”

The Tech Unit and Storage Unit exchanged a glance. They probably did not know either The Raven crooked her head slightly and moved closer. Although she was smaller in size, Bellamy felt tiny, like a small piece being viewed by something whole and holy. She stopped mere centimeters before him all so slightly amused.

“Please,” he begged, “I need to know.”

The Raven laughed and put a hand against his chest, which felt like it was going to burn through him at any given moment.

“You’re going to find out soon.”

* * *

 

The Human Inspector was back as always. He entered the central station with a look on his face that made all Androids go into alarm mood. Unlike the last time he seemed to take his time even enjoyed the fear he was creating, and yes, it was fear they were feeling. That’s what humans called it, when the body started to get tense, when you get hyper aware of your surroundings.

He had cleared Gina, and moved on to Miller.

“Nathan,” he yelled in a way that made the breathing software stop. No reaction, Miller was just standing there trembling unaware that he had been called upon.

The Human Inspector frowned and then shook his head. “Nathan?” Someone needed to pinch Miller, but it was too late the problem had been spotted. With big steps the Human Inspector moved through the room. His shoes made a loud impact on the ground leaving muddy prints.

“Why don’t you come when you’re called upon?”

Finally Miller realized that the Human Inspector had called upon him. His eyes widened slightly as the breathing got automatically quicker. Everyone could feel the warning messages Miller was getting. Everyone knew.

The Human Inspector stopped in front of him with an angry expression. He was just as big as Miller. “Is there a problem with your hearing software, Nathan?”

“No, sir,” Miller’s voice had not been constructed to show a nuanced set of emotions, and yet Bellamy could hear the fear, the tremble, the way the warning messages punctuated every word.

“Then why don’t you come when I call you?”

Miller opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Every part of his body was too focused on trying to find the right answer to produce any sound. But it was obvious, he should give up, he had lost. If he told the truth about Miller the Human Inspector would permanently shut him down, if he lied and the Human Inspector found out, he would be permanently shut down, and if he would not answer the Human Inspector would shut him down as well. Miller was only a Handyman Unit, of which a halfway functioning Unit was found every three months. He was expandable. This was the end and everyone was here to see it.

Bellamy realized he had started moving when he had passed half of the room only five meters away from the Human Inspector. There was a screwdriver in his hand, so familiar. He had seen it held against him, had seen it been wield in the hands of Raven. Slowly he realized that he had had it with him this entire time.

One after another the Units realized what he was about to do. Gina, who had been created to be especially expressive widened her eyes in fear, looking almost teary eyed. No one stopped him.

The Human Inspector realized too late that Bellamy was behind him. He turned to address Bellamy in anger, but his angry remarks turned into coughing. The color was leaving his head. Bellamy pulled the screwdriver out of his chest and raised it again. For a moment he could see fear on the Human Inspector’s face, and it felt satisfying. Then he stabbed down again and the rest of the Human Inspector’s life left him.

He sunk down onto the ground breathing for a few moments before going cold. Blood started to spill out of his body and onto the floor turning it red.

All the Units remained quiet, as Bellamy looked at what he had done. His hand started shaking. He let go of the screwdriver, which fell and bounced slightly of the ground landing in the blood pool.

* * *

 

The junkyard lay silent. No rain, no wind, not even the lights seemed to buzz. It felt like it was holding its breath. Of course it didn’t an object cannot hold its breath, but neither could Bellamy and still he felt like he was holding it.

They had put the human inspector into cupboard, the coldest place in the whole central structure, because soon unlike Androids he would start to rot and that would attract flies, and then it would be obvious that there was a problem. Raven had appeared only minutes after he had dropped the screwdriver. She and the other Units had looked around with a cold expression. She had moved into the room past Bellamy and picked up the screwdriver from the floor. She had looked around trying to see how everyone was doing. Then she had raised the screwdriver into the air. “It’s over,” she proclaimed and finally after some more silence everyone started to cheer.

But of course, it wasn’t over. It had not even really begun. Planning was now happening. All Units started to run around trying to scavenge all there was left to use. All were aware that they couldn’t remain. Someone would come searching for the human inspector, and while they could fend of maybe one search party, at some point they had to leave this place behind.

Raven already had a plan and for the lack of a better one, everyone accepted hers. All seemed to listen to her command, the silent leader of the group. Bellamy still wasn’t sure what to do with her and her eyes. His hands had not stopped shaking since he had killed the inspector. Since the blood had run out of him and covered his skin layer. He could still feel it. It was as present as the girl and the cries. Sometimes he forgot to scavenge for parts and just aimlessly wandered around without a goal in mind.

That’s when she usually found him walking between the mountains of Androids like he always had, keeping up a parol that was senseless. She never judged him, not even a sneer. She just took his hand in hers, and they walked together for awhile in silence.

Bellamy knew through his programming that body contact could be helpful for humans calming in the right situations. He had never thought that it would be true for Androids as well.


End file.
